God Love Her
by Anonymousdear
Summary: She was just like every uppity bitch from the right side of town he'd ever met and he was the perfect example of a no good biker hick that her daddy had warned her about. The only difference is that she's about to break free, he's about to get even and a church mouse never looked so good. Besides, God loves her and so does he. Too bad they ain't in control of shit.
1. Church on Fridays

Chapter 1: Church on Fridays

It weren't nothing special, not at all. He and his brother travelled through here plenty of times, coming and going like it weren't nobodies business and it surely wasn't. Woodbury was like every other yuppie shit hole in Georgia that he and Merle always skipped to when it seemed convenient. Normally it was because his big brother had pissed off one two many drug dealers or fucked his way through the female trailer park residents but occasionally Daryl would tug on the chain and insist they move on, although they always had the same stomping grounds. Woodburn was just as good as any.

He was leaning against his bike, his boots kicked out in front of him, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he waited outside in the churchyard for Merle. _Good place to score some crank. _He'd snuck round the back some time ago with a low whistle and wink, "Don't chu worry 'bout it, baby brother. Ol' Merle just gonna buy himself a good time". Daryl just rolled his eyes, grunted and assumed the position; his brother getting high off his face weren't nothing new, it was all good.

A middle-aged woman passed him quickly, her nose wrinkled upwards as she clutched the child's hand she was holding tighter and gripped her purse to her chest like she was fixing to sprint off then and there. That was all good too. One more prissy bitch with a stick wedged up her ass, scared of the big bad redneck didn't set him to cry any. But that was Woodbury in a nutshell; one side of the town was pumped up, church going goodies and the other were all bikers, trailer parks and two bit hookers. Of course the other half did a good job of ignoring, good Christians passed by half-dressed white trash babies every Sunday on their way to church. That weren't nothing he hadn't seen before. Hell, that was just Georgia. He chucked his cigarette butt into the dust, a hand raised through his shaggy hair. _Hurry the fuck up, Merle. _

-/-\\-/

"Acknowledge those who work hard among you, who care for you in the Lord and who-"

She weren't listening. God forgive her, but Pastor Joel was about as engaging as algebra class on a Friday afternoon and anyhow, she knew it off by heart. So if daddy asked her to recite today's scripture over dinner, like he did when he suspected she hadn't been paying attention, he'd be none the wiser. She knew Sunday school had been good for something. Thinking about tonight was far more exciting and she didn't think she could stop herself if she tried. She wiggled slightly in excitement.

_Woah there, Gracey. _She'd attracted the attention of her father and the elbow her sister slightly wedged into her ribs on the other side of her confirmed it. It was all good though. She kept her eyes to the front, playing off the gesture as if she were merely getting comfy before a particularly good part in a good book, as if there was nothing in the room but Father Joel's voice and Thessalonians 5: 12-13. Told you she was good. She had to avoid any whoopings if she wanted tonight to go to plan.

It was a normal Friday. She had got up early, made her father's lunch before work and got Penny and herself ready for school as usual and here she was, at Friday mass just like every week. The only difference was that after dinner and nightly prayers, she would sneak out of her bedroom window and meet Noah before trying out The Rattlesnake, a bar across town. Her daddy didn't like that bar, not at all – although he didn't like a lot of stuff. He said only hicks and no good backwater hussies occupied Rattlesnake Jake's on the weekend and that the owner (Jake) was just using it as a front for his drug dealing. But daddy always thought that everyone and everything had devilment in them when alcohol was involved, besides Noah Halchuck had been there plenty of times and he said the place wasn't half-bad. Needless to say, her father didn't like Noah either. Although, nobody really liked the Halchucks. It was only because they lived on the other side of town, in a house adjacent to the county trailer park and Gracey didn't think there was a bit wrong with that.

She allowed her eyes to move quickly along the pews, towards the Greene family where they landed lightly on the petite blonde sat obediently next to her father. Gracey had asked Noah if they could invite the younger Greene, since she really liked her and the fact that the Greenes were sad on account of their oldest daughter running off with some Asian fella last summer. Noah had only shook his head no, Beth was cute but too much of a goodie two shoes, "That girl couldn't lie even if God Almighty asked her to". Gracey had understood, the little plan they had cooked up would get them both in a whole heap of trouble if anyone were to find out. Anyhow, Penny was going to cover for her the next morning should she get back late and that was all there was to it.

Gracey thought about the details all the way to the church doors, as she said polite "Hello" and "How are you's?" to all the old women on the Christian Committee and politely complimented Mrs. Richard's new up-do. All the way to the sweet smile she gave to her father to the coin she dropped in the donation box at the door. _God forgive me. _

/

"Who the fuck goes to church on a Friday?" Merle Dixon loudly proclaimed as he sauntered back to his motorbike, a noticeable bulge in the side of his leather vest where his 'good time' patiently awaited him. "Smokin' pot's illegal, but that there's the real crime".

Daryl grunted in response and muttered a rough, "C'mon", eager to get out of this yard and on the way to a bar, it was hot as hell out here and he wanted himself a beer. Besides, his brother was being loud, too loud and he was surprised no one inside the church had come out to push them on their way. He was sure all the 'fuck' and drug talk sounded perfectly godly mixed in with the scripture. _Bet they'd just love that. _

He wasn't so lucky though, and he wasn't surprised at that fact at all. A Dixon was never lucky. Merle clearly had other ideas, loudly muttering, "Is a waste, a damn waste of a day" before dropping his zipper and proceeding to piss in the shrubs of a goddamn churchyard.

"Merle, ya shithead. C'mon, that service gon' be finished soon", Daryl responded, kicking his brother's bike lightly. The Dixon brothers didn't need any trouble just yet and he was sure taking a leak on church property weren't going to do them no favors. Especially if someone happened to see them, especially say a woman or a child and then Daryl would be attempting to bail Merle out of county jail for an indecent exposure charge with money they didn't have.

"I'ma American, man, I got the right to piss" was the reply he got.

As usual, someone wasn't smiling down on him because it was just at that moment that those church doors decided to open and all the good little Christians made their way out into the afternoon sunshine. God, he really just wanted to ditch his brother at times. Daryl couldn't lie and say the thought hadn't crossed his mind; there were plenty of perks to a Merle-free life. He wouldn't have someone busting his balls about what a little bitch he was, wouldn't be kicked out before closing because his brother had groped some other guy's woman at a bar and he sure as hell wouldn't have dealers knocking on his door at stupid o'clock for that green owed to them from the other night's score. Sure, he'd get a lot more sleep without him but he was his brother. The only other Dixon and probably only other person in this world that he would have. No matter how many times Merle ended up in the slammer, Daryl would always be there to bail him out. It was at times like these that he had to remind himself of that fact.

"Ya dick better be away, Merle", he hissed quietly, his eyes fixed tightly on the stream of people making their way towards the car park. He thanked his lucky stars that he had been smart enough to park behind a big maple tree just at the yard's edge, it'd be some time before anyone walked close enough to see them.

"Hush up, fuckface", his brother replied. Daryl heard the sound of a zipper. "Besides, they'd think it was the goddamn second comin' of Christ if they saw my gift ta women".

Daryl probably would of laughed. It was quite a good one for Merle. It was just the type of crass hill-billy humor he would of enjoyed if he wasn't distracted. He had every intention of slamming up his kickstand and going on his merry way when Merle was safely and securely back in his pants. Instead he found himself watching some girl who'd just walked out of the big white doors, thinking that it was surely strange that her head of curly hair was the exact shade of the maple leaves falling around him. She had all that red tied up in a braid and she was dressed in little dungarees and he didn't fancy her or nothing, he just thought it was weird that hair and a tree could be the same colour. Daryl Dixon didn't look at women, especially a yuppie like her. _Damn weird. _

Merle had been watching his brother. He thought he'd made a good one, so when his brother didn't laugh at his joke like he ought to, he had turned to see what had got his attention. And boy did it not disappoint. Merle got the attraction to the church girls, probably more than most people in this one-beat county. He had had his fair experiences with little goodies who wanted to rut with their own personal redneck for the night but he had learnt one thing if nothing at all. They were worlds apart, and men like him, like his brother, were good for only one thing – crawling out that bedroom window when morning came. Merle straddled his bike.

"What'chu lookin' at her for?", the sound of his brother's gruff voice broke Daryl out of his staring. His head wiped round and saw that Merle was ready to go.

Daryl readjusted his vest and started the ignition. He shook his head, "Nothin'".

Gracey had been on the church steps, waiting for Penny and her father when she'd heard it. The distinct sound of a motorbike starting up, two in fact and she turned just in time to see a scruffy man in a leather vest and steel-toed boots turn back to look at her before pulling away.

**Hello, me again!  
My first Walking Dead fic so of course a few disclaimers are in order! All rights go to their rightful owners (of course, barring characters of my own creation). I'm adding a song to every chapter, ones that I associate with this character's relationship with Daryl and the WD verse - obviously the first one to give a listen to is God Love Her - Toby Keith, the original inspiration for this fic, but more often than not I will add them at the end of the chapters! All, in my personal opinion, should be added to everyone's playlists, so do give them a listen! Please, please, please point out any mistakes to me and ask questions as we go along!**

**And as always, review and follow if you want more x **


	2. When the Sun Goes Down

Chapter 2: When the Sun Goes Down

She had made it out. Somehow, by the grace of Lord almighty, she had managed to sneak out of her bedroom, climb down the wall trellis without waking her father. Penny had given her a thumbs up from the window to give her the all clear once her feet had touched their back yard. Boy, it had been one stress of an evening.

Her father hadn't been impressed with something or other from work today, which meant more scripture reciting and lectures on the declining of Woodburn resident's safety at dinner. "It's all those bikers and trailer trash scum running about on the east-side. It's ruining it for the rest of the community", he had proceeded to shove a chunk of bloody steak into his mouth before continuing, "We need to go out there and take back what's ours". Gracey and her sister had both nodded their heads politely, always in silent agreement with their father, lest they be confined to their bedroom without supper. He had taken another mouthful of steak, "Corinthians 2: 14-17. Go.".

Her daddy was strict and hard, a godly man for sure and sometimes unnecessarily rough, but Gracey knew he loved his children, just in the only way he knew how. Her granddaddy had been the same. She knew from the way he would give her and Penny each a kiss on the forehead at 9:00pm sharp at curfew (Penny having gone an hour before herself) and the pleased way in which he would say "Thank you, Mary-Grace" when she would make him a hot drink before bed. That was why she only felt slightly guilty when he had tucked her in, oblivious to the shoes she had clipped to her feet under the covers. She consoled herself with the fact that she was soon to be 19 years old and had never ever been to the only bar in her small town of Woodbury; such a thing was a rite of passage she had been told and so she said a small prayer of forgiveness to her Lord before ungracefully scaling her back yard fence.

Now she stood in front of Noah, woefully inexperienced as she stood in her black jeans and bra, changing into a strappy black top with her friend's back facing her. "C'mon, Gracey, it's goin' to get rammed soon. There'll be nowhere to sit", Noah complained, moving from one foot to the other.

"Just give me a sec, I'm not used to these tops, they're tricky", Gracey replied, struggling to get her arm through one of the straps. She wasn't good at this. Most girls she knew were well accustomed to the clothing requirements for bars and the like but she wasn't, so she supposed she was unequipped in that department too. She understood that small tops and even smaller dresses were the required attire but she had no such clothes. Her father would send her to church camp for a year if he discovered she owned something of that sort; the only acceptable item she owned were her black heeled sandals and she was only allowed them because they were a Christmas gift from her uncle. Noah had agreed to bring some of his sister's, Mae, clothes along for her, but still he had laughed like a hyena when she had met him outside The Rattlesnake in her white blouse and cardigan.

"Let me have a look at you", Noah said when she was done. He clapped his hands like a little child at the sight of her and declared, "Look at you! A little heathen like the rest of us!"

"Hush", she had joked back, swatting him playfully as they walked to the entrance of the bar. She was holding her breath, she realized as they walked through the black doors; excited as she was, the tales of the infamous bikers and disreputable women that lurked here from her father's stories filled her mind and she said one more prayer to God for good measure. Old habits die-hard she guessed.

Needless to say, she was pleasantly surprised. It wasn't the ghoulish hole her father had made out and surprisingly, there were some people she knew, even the odd one from church. _Interesting. _Look, there was Tyreese Williams, perched on one of the leather stools at the bar, and there was Shane Walsh leaning against the juke box, looking far too drunk for comfort but still, a familiar face was a familiar face. No matter how distasteful that face was. Thanks be, maybe this would turn out just fine.

Noah had been watching the young girls face with a growing grin, amused by the surprise that had taken over it, "So, hells not so bad, huh?".

Gracey turned to face him, laughing, "Naw, I wouldn't mind staying". And it was true, much to Noah's delight; he had worried she would have been too out of her depth and wanted to leave as soon as she arrived but Gracey always surprised him. He nudged her shoulder with his own and led her to the bar, eager to buy her the first alcoholic beverage of her lifetime.

"You sure you'll get served?" his red-headed friend whispered and she had laughed out loud when Noah had looked at her with a mock face of offense before advising her to calm her little cotton-socks.

"Go sit, Mae's over at the back", he had assured her, grinning evilly to himself as he thought of what cocktail he was going to place in front of her in mere minutes. Gracey merely smiled and upon turning, realized the bar had indeed doubled in occupants in the short time they had been there. There were people from her school there, who eyed her warily (she was the sheriff's precious daughter after all) but under the influence of alcohol smiled at her all the same.

She scouted around for Mae in the growing mass of people, standing on her tiptoes, which really wasn't saying much, all the while fiddling with the clasps at the front of her top. If you could even call it that. The top she had borrowed from Noah's older sister covered just enough of her chest, the neckline far more plunging than she was used to and the entirety of it ending halfway down her midriff so a decent portion of skin was exposed. Sure, it wasn't quite like what some of the other girls were wearing but if she was honest, Gracey wasn't as uncomfortable with it as much as she thought she would be, in fact a part of her felt quite liberated.

A flash of bleach blonde hair caught her eye at the back of room and the hearty laugh that was coming from that direction assured her that the lady in question was hiding back there somewhere. As Gracey drew closer, she saw her – cropped hair and platform boots with a red looking drink in her hand. Gracey loved Mae. But she seemed to be the only one on her side of town.

"Why, is that Mary-Grace Blake?", Mae announced at her arrival, getting up from her seat next to her boyfriend. She leaned forward and planted a light kiss on her cheek, followed up by a "Nice top" and a wink.

Mae was a red-neck for sure, her appearance may of told a different story but she could whistle through that gap in her front teeth and knew her way round a good grits and biscuits breakfast like no man Gracey ever saw. Her boyfriend was too, she didn't really know him but he was some trucker from Atlanta. Daddy always told her to watch out for those city types. He seemed nice enough, but him being a trucker and all meant Mae wasn't in town all the time and boy, did Gracey get excited when she was.

"Ya daddy know ya'll are out here tonight?", Mae's boyfriend asked, a pitcher of beer in one hand and the other resting on the back of Mae's chair.

Gracey shivered slightly at the mention of her father; her mind drifted to him tucked away in his bed, hopefully unaware of whereabouts and she shivered once more at the thought that he actually was. Luckily she was saved from answering as Noah dropped a tray full of glasses in front of them, grinning all the while.

"Course not, Gregg", Mae replied while glaring at her little brother, "Else it would be a sleepover down at county for us all".

Gracey wasn't really listening. She was more intrigued by the assortment of glasses before her - some were small ones and some were regular sized like. All stunk like something fierce. "Which one's mine, Noah?".

Her best friend merely winked at his sister and handed her one of the small glasses, amber liquid sloshing over the edges, "This one, to get ya started off all smooth". She lifted the glass to her face, giving it a whiff – she'd never smelt anything like it, although she was sure she had seen her father drink something of the like when he was particularly crabby. She didn't know much about drinking but she was sure she was meant to do it all in one. With all her analyzing, she missed the curt shake of the head that Mae threw at her sibling and how said sibling paled slightly under her glare but before he had a chance to swap it with one of the vodka cranberries, Gracey had lifted it to her mouth and down the hatch it went.

/

He liked this bar. He liked the beer, he liked the music and he liked the owner, Jake. He didn't kick him and his brother out as frequently as most others, so whenever he was in town, he made sure to drag Merle in here for a bottle or two. Not that it took much dragging. He was watching the man in question attempt to charm his way into some college girl's panties, bouncing back every time she swatted his hand away or didn't laugh at his stupid jokes.

The only thing he didn't like about the bar was that it was the only one in Woodbury, if you didn't count The Den, which was less of a bar and more of a crack house so most people didn't. Even he was hard put when he followed Merle in there. Being the only bar in the town meant one thing on the weekends – high school kids. And since Jake was such a stand up guy and allowed the underage drinkers, 18 and up, in as long as they behaved themselves, they swamped the place.

_Fuckin' kids. _

He had forgotten it was a Friday. So he had picked himself out a nice table in the back, the waitress knowing the Dixon's well enough to keep a steady stream of beers coming back and forth and he thought to himself that he might just get through this. And he truly was. He was trying to think of Merle, of the money they owed that dealer from one town over and of how they had some one-off work at the local garage tomorrow so he really shouldn't let his brother get too shit-faced. At least he was trying; all those kids were throwing themselves all over the place, drinks going just as far.

_Damn kids. _

There was one kid he was watching in particular. He had noticed her as soon as she had walked in, if he was true to himself. Noticed that warm red hair, the weird hair that was the same shade of the maple leaves at that he had saw at the churchyard. The girl had stood in the middle of the bar, looking around like a lost puppy, her hands fiddling with the front of her top. Gone were those little dungarees she had been wearing and that prim braid, instead she was dressed in skin tight black, black little heels with dark, red curls running down her back. It had been the church girl for sure, that much he would've been able to tell if he was as drunk as a skunk, but it sure as hell hadn't looked like her.

Daryl had tried to ignore her like he ignored the rest of her ilk, annoying as they were but he couldn't help but watch her a bit. Watch as she politely spoke to anyone that approached her, even the creeps, and listen as that prim and proper voice took a hint of that Georgian drawl as she knocked back anything her idiot friend placed in front of her. _Goddamn fool. _Daryl would bet his bike that this little church mouse hadn't drunk a lick in her life and here she was, knocking it back like it weren't nothing at all. Smelt like trouble to him.

He needed a piss and on his way to the can he gave Merle a firm knock with his shoulder when he could see him getting way too friendly with the college girls and their not so friendly boyfriends getting all riled up. "Stop actin' like some damn kid, Merle". Of course he was brushed off and his big brother announced that it was all good, "Nuthin' but some college bitches, Darylina". To be honest, he should count his blessings that it weren't no high schooler Merle was trying to rub up on instead, was just asking for trouble letting those young ones in. Fuck, he needed a piss.

He did his business and went on his way, thinking that maybe he should be getting Merle home soon before he started hassling someone when he felt something softly bump into the front of his chest. It was the maple girl, all glassy green eyes and red curls falling over her tanned shoulders. Shit, she sure didn't look like a church mouse from here. He stared down at her as she corrected herself.

"M'sorry", she smiled up at him, her hand pulling back a curl behind her ear. "Didn't see ya there".

Daryl was tempted to ignore her and move on like she hadn't even spoke. That's what he would of done if it were anyone else. The only women he conversed with were the ones that got down on all fours at his motel room and even then it was the bare minimum, let alone rarely. His brother was the shit talker and ladies man, he preferred to stay in the background, nursing a beer and saying little or nothing. Instead he grunted, surveying that polite smile and replied, "S'nothin'".

She took a step backwards as if to have better look at him and he was ready for her to run back to her friends when she got a glimpse of his leather vest and unkempt hair, scared of the biker hick. She merely narrowed her eyes slightly at him, no disgust from what he could see and she was silent a beat before she asked, "You at the churchyard today?".

Daryl tensed up slightly, yeah he sure was, doing something less than godly, "What's it ta you, girl?". He was gruff but she stood her ground. Was probably all the booze.

"Nothin', jus' never seen a biker at our church before. Ya needed to do some prayin'?", she replied. Her tone was light and joking and Daryl had to shake his head at the thought that she was flirting with him. Girls like her didn't flirt with hicks like him, he was about as friendly as a wet hen and probably near twice her age. Maybe he had few more beers than he originally thought. Still, here he was, conversing and all.

"Ya even old enough ta be in here?", he asked, trying to pretend like he wasn't asking just so he could know her age. _Dirty old man. _Lord, he'd never spoke that much to anyone but Merle before. Definitely the beers.

"What's it ta you?", she replied just as quick, grinning up at him. Damn, okay. Behind all that shyness, there was wicked mouth. He'd been sure she'd run away if he was rude enough but here she was, one hand on the hip that was cocked out to her side, like a little spitfire. But he could see that slight wobble in her step and the rosiness in her cheeks. He was talking to some dumb, drunk girl, liquid courage making her able to stand in front of the big, bad biker with no fear. Ain't nothing he hadn't seen before.

"Get outta here, girl", he jerked his head towards to the group she had been sitting with earlier, all looking over at the two of them, getting more and more alarmed by the second. Like he was going to make off with her any minute. "Ya boyfriend's gettin' worried".

Maple girl just pursed her lips in response, green eyes going even tighter as she looked at him. He half thought she was going to tell him to fuck off, if ever a thing could ever come out the mouth of a Christian girl such as herself. Instead, she lazily shrugged one shoulder and flashed him one more smile before walking away slowly. Throwing over her shoulder, "Guess I won't be seein' ya on Sunday", before rejoining her friends.

_Jesus. _Girls got fire. That was not what he had been expecting at all. She sure wasn't no stuck up townie that cried when they thought they were being disrespected; she sure didn't need no silver spoon dislodging from her backside. He was watching her go, he knew, but he sure as hell didn't need his brother to remind him.

"You lookin' at her again, baby brother?", he whistled low, "She sure didn't look like that this afta noon. Tha's jailbait if I ever saw it". Merle was enjoying this too much. _Itty, bitty Darylina went an' got himself a crush. _He couldn't wait to ruin it.

His brother still hadn't looked away from the fine piece of ass that was making her way to the exit, hips swaying in that way that all innocent pussy did towards an unsuspecting man. Merle reached into his pocket, about to light the smoke dangling from his lips despite the disapproving look the waitress dropped him as she passed. The punch line was coming and he was taking his sweet, sweet time with it.

"Wouldn't be lookin' too hard if I was you", Merle took a drag and inhaled slowly, so pleased with what he had found out. "Her daddy wouldn't be too happy, a dirty redneck like you lookin' at his baby". Daryl merely grunted in agreement.

"Ya never guess jus' whose baby that is neither". Here it comes. Merle inhaled once more. He leaned in close. "That there, little brother, is the Sheriff's daughter".

He couldn't stop himself; he let out a loud cackle and clapped Daryl on the shoulder, watching his face pale slightly and his eyes tighten at the thought of the Sheriff fucker that ran these parts. _Prick. _"Yeah, she a regular Blake bitch".

That was all Daryl needed to hear. He didn't need no part in that. Not that he wanted any in the first place. Merle was right. That girl was jailbait, just one god darn accident waiting to happen.

**Why hello there!**

**I know Merle is a dick but I just love his character so much, makes me chuckle on the regular. The story for this chapter is When the Sun Goes Down - Arctic Monkeys, amazing song, definitely should give it a listen. Things are going to start pulling together soon so stick with it and ask as many questions as you need! All disclaimers apply and review x **


	3. Goin' Fishin'

Chapter 3: Goin' Fishin'

Gracey had been drunk last night. Or at least she thought she might of been, since she had never been drunk before so had nothing to reference it to but she was pretty sure that if she _was _drunk then _that _was what it would have felt like. She had been swaying slightly and slurring her words and she didn't remember climbing the fence being as hard as it had been before by the end of the night. Her head had been pounding and her throat hurt like something fierce when Penny had woken her up the next day; luckily it was Saturday, so the county jail drunk tank would be full with the usual suspects, along with some weekend hell raisers so naturally her daddy would be away for most of the day. But it would of looked out of the usual if Gracey was still in bed when he returned at 6 o'clock with no dinner on the table. That would go down a treat.

Philip Blake was a strict, godly man; no daughter of his would sin, not a chance. Her father never hit the two of them but he was by no means a relaxed parent, no sirey. In fact, there was a small room in their house that he kept locked when they had guests over, stating that it was his office so it was full of police business, real confidential like. But Gracey knew better. In actuality, if you were to stop by the Blake residence, with its little 'Home is where the heart is' sign above the door, on a night where Philip Blake's daughters had forgotten a passage or two at scripture recitals or been just a little bit too smart in replying to their father, you might just see what that room is really used for. _Reflection and remorse, you jus' think about what Jesus would say if he saw you actin' like a no good ninny. _Gracey hated that room and she could tell you it weren't filled with no official police works; it was full of heads. Not human heads, of course, but animal one's. To every other walker on the street, this wouldn't be out of the ordinary, most Georgian's loved themselves a good hunt but not in the way her daddy did it. As far as she knew, regular folk hung their prizes on the walls, all polished and proud but not Philip Blake – he liked to keep heads in jars on the shelves full of buck, bear and rabbit – and when he had run out of space, he had mounted more shelves on the walls. Penny had asked once, why, why did he keep such things in jars, instead of mounting them on a plaque and putting them over the fireplace like all of her friend's daddies. Their father's reply was simple, _jus' a healthy bit of science, my girl. _

Gracey sure as hell didn't want to go in the reflection room for her act of sloth, not with the heavy duty truck that was slamming away against the front of her skull, so she had gotten herself up that Saturday afternoon and got to work all with a smile on her face. Even though, she felt like she had been chewed up and spat back out again, last night had been the most fun she thought she had ever had. Alcohol didn't seem so bad, although the taste was lacking, and she had meet some nice people, even a handsome man. Emphasis on _man. _Daddy would have a cow if he knew she had even breathed in the direction of a guy like him. The man at the bar hadn't been like Noah, no sir, he was built like a brick house and nothing about him remotely screamed friendly, but she'd liked him. He was trying to scare her that whole time she could tell but he still replied to her when she talked and Gracey didn't think that was nothing. He was handsome in a way that would make her daddy red in the face – all scruff, smoke and leather. She had thought he had smelt like the Georgian woods when she had bumped into him. He had arms for days and those eyes, well they looked at her like he could see straight through her. _A shame, _she thought to herself. She doubted she'd ever see that man ever again; fella's like him only stayed in a town for a few nights at most and probably seeing him twice in one day was a miracle in itself.

That's why Gracey found herself pleasantly surprised when she saw a familiar set of bikes parked across the churchyard, past the grave stones and just over yonder the line of maple trees that partially concealed them. She hovered at the church house steps, she'd have a few minutes while her shook the pastor's hand and thanked the choir for such a heavenly service, she could go talk to him and make it back without her father knowing she'd ever left those white steps. She couldn't believe what she was doing but there she was, quickly making her through the headstones and little statues of angels, surely it had to be by the grace of God that this burst of courage had sprouted.

Both bikes were empty, but the man in question was leant up against one of the maples, a cigarette in one hand and the other thrown into the pocket of his ripped jeans. She took a deep breathe, getting slightly psyched out by his red flannel with the ripped off sleeves, those arms out for display again. She straightened out her long green church skirt and pulled up the sleeves of her cardigan slightly. Now or never, time was running out.

"Guess I was wrong", she called out softly as she approached him, "Maybe you had to do some prayin' after all". She was in front of him now, a wide berth still between them.

He hadn't jumped at her words but it would be wrong to say he wasn't surprised. Those blue eyes flicked up to her and his hand paused midair slightly before carrying on its way to his mouth. For a moment, Gracey thought he was going to ignore her, brush his way past her and hop on his bike.

"Shouldn't be here, girl", was the level toned reply she was greeted with, and for that she was thankful. He was just the same as he was now as he was at the bar. Same leather vest and same mussed hair, all wrapped up in that same grumpy voice. That gravelly, southern voice.

Gracey laughed slightly, "At church? No one has ever told me that before". She laughed again at the irony – there was nowhere she belonged more. Right now she had skirt on that came down to her shins and was clutching the bible her mother had given her at her side.

He didn't reply, just watched her for a beat longer, as she nervously dragged a strand of hair behind her ear, before looking off towards the church. Gracey gulped silently.

"Never seen you here before, or at Jake's", she tried again softly, wanting for some unknown reason to know this man, to hear his reply. She'd only seen him twice, if you can even count the first time and she didn't even know his name but she was intrigued and in this town very little did that to her.

"Ya ain't ever been ta the Rattlesnake before", he replied stiffly, calling her out with a slight scoff, "Bet'cha never even drank before". He tossed his cigarette butt into the dirt, still looking past her. It wasn't the friendliest reply, but she'd take it. Gracey took a step forward.

"How'd you t-", she started but was promptly cut off when his gruff voice rang out again.

"The sheriff know who yer talkin' to?".

Gracey froze immediately. So that was it. The reason why he hadn't taken his eyes away from the church house and why he seemed like she was bothering him. She felt that familiar burn of frustration building up in her; this is how most people acted around her once they knew just who her kin was. People could go to friendly to stone cold in a second when that particular bomb was dropped into a conversation – not that she could blame them. Sheriff Blake was a real force to be reckoned with around these parts, unyielding and in Gracey's opinion often unfair, especially to men such as the one standing in front of her. Maybe he'd had a run in with her daddy before, maybe that was it. It was all good, she got it. No one wanted to end up in a cell for looking the wrong way at the sheriff's daughter. But it never ceased to tick her off, in his Lord's name that was the reason why she'd never had a proper boyfriend in her life.

She could feel the silence building up around the two of them, threatening to cave down on her and send her running straight back to the church steps where she ought to be. A slight sweat had broken over her skin but she tried to tell herself it was the sun beating down her, but that was a lie, she was under the shade of the tree with him. She should go, there was nothing left to say really, other than sorry for bothering him and to wish him a nice day. That was what a nice, polite girl such as herself should've done, but she found her mouth opening on it's own accord.

"My name's Mary-Grace". She had never wanted the ground to open up and swallow her more at the sound of those 5 words. She could have face palmed on the spot. Why would he care? What was she doing? _Just turn, turn now and pretend like this never happened_.

"Dumb name" were the words that interrupted her internal melt down. She looked up as quick as a shot, coming into contact with those baby blues that were staring down at her all of a sudden. It was an insult. That much was certain but it didn't sound disinterested or malicious and he hadn't told her to take a hike yet.

She smiled shyly, "S'why I usually go by Gracey", playing with the sleeve of her cardigan.

The nameless man just grunted, "S'better" and she couldn't help the grin that spread over her freckled face at the sound of it.

A thought took her all of a sudden, a memory flashing across her mind that apparently needed swift, immediate correction and Gracey wanted to openly curse her motor mouth once more. "Noah's not my boyfriend, you know". Jesus take the wheel, she couldn't sound more like a teenage girl if she tried. But she honestly wasn't able to help herself. _I need a sock. So I can shove it in my mouth and just stop talkin'. _

"Ain't no one asked", he replied roughly, taking another cigarette out and lighting it. He looked off away from her again and muttered something along the lines of, "Damn kid, give a shit".

Scarlet bloomed over her cheeks and she could feel the heat of it like she was standing in front of an oven. One minute they were talking about her name and the next she was thinking of how he had mistaken Noah for her boyfriend and told her to go on back to him the other night. The burning need to correct that information and let him know it just wasn't so had taken over like an instinct. It really was time to go. But she thought she'd try her hand at one more thing, thinking that it would be useful in the future for whatever reason.

"What's your name?".

Silence. Absolute silence. But not the stony or awkward type. No, he weren't ignoring her, he was trying to figure out if that information would somehow come back to bite him in the ass if he told her, her father being who he was. At least that was what it looked like to her. A few more beats of silence passed, a tumbleweed rolling across the yard between them would never be more appropriate than now.

The man in front of her shifted his booted feet real quick and took a drag of his lit cigarette. Gracey took a sharp intake of breath, only releasing it when she heard his gravelly reply, "Daryl".

It was as if God himself had parted the storm clouds in her head and made her day considerably brighter. She was about to tell him how nice it was to meet him and what a nice name that sure was too when another voice joined the mix from behind her, making her feet fix stiff to the ground and the man in front of her go rigid.

"Miss Gracey".

She turned to face Rick Grimes, her father's new deputy and so she guessed new right hand man. All dressed up in his uniform. Deputy Grimes was nice she thought, she liked his son and his wife and they always bought her lemonade when she was raising money for the Christian Committee. He seemed like a good man.

"Your daddy is going to be needin' you soon", the policeman smiled towards the girl in a tone as serious as could be. His brown eyes flicked to Daryl momentarily before settling back on her again. The friendly smile never leaving his face.

Gracey merely nodded, clutching her bible even tighter to her side. Time was up. She looked towards Daryl again, those blue pools hitting her own green, and she offered a small smile before turning away towards the church. She had wandered far enough away that she didn't notice Mr. Grimes wasn't following behind her, she didn't see him tip his hat slightly and didn't hear him say, "Careful there, Mr. Dixon".

/

Daryl didn't want to go to the church again. Merle needed another fix but he knew that the girl would probably be there again and didn't want to deal with that. He had been seeing her all over this damned town, like she was his tail light, and this town wasn't _that _small. Ever since Officer Friendly had given him his sweet, little warning, he'd decided to stop talking to her there and then, but the tone of his voice weren't like he was used to. Not like the disgusted sneer most other officers gave him, like he was some sick perverted hillbilly that couldn't understand no English. Nah, Officer Friendly's voice was a warning for sure but it weren't threatening, it was more of a 'You'd better watch your step or _he's_ gonna getcha', rather than 'Look at her one more time and I'm gonna hall your ass to jail you piece of hick shit'. And Daryl didn't need no reminding about who _he _was.

But ever since that Sunday, when he had sworn not to lay eyes on her again, it was like he hadn't been doing much else. Maple girl had been everywhere; at the diner with that punk friend of hers, outside the church again helping those sweet, old ladies, even outside the police station on Saturday morning when he was bailing Merle out for drunk and disorderly. He had damn near shit his pants at that one, thinking dear, old daddy was going to spring out and lynch him if he even looked in her direction. Each time Daryl had seen her, she had smiled and waved, even asked him how he was, always so polite and proper. Always dressed up in some pastel coloured get-up that covered all her extremities and all Daryl could think of when he nodded and reluctantly grunted back an "M'fine" was the freckles on her shoulders and colour of her skin when she was wearing that little outfit at the bar. _Dirty, old man. _A man of 27 shouldn't be looking at no high-schooler. She could've been 21 for all he cared, it didn't matter – all that did was that she was everything he was not and she looked as innocent as an angel, an angel that would never have no business with a no gooder such as himself.

But here she fuckin' was. Again.

It was dusk, getting dark real quick and she was all alone on a dirt road, clutching that little cardigan to herself like she thought someone was going to steal it. He was coming back from the chop shop, Jim's mechanic shop, with Merle bitching and bothering him about going to get another fix when he had recognized that flash of deep red that he could of picked out in this whole, cursed state, "T'fuck?", he murmured out loud, cutting his brother off.

Merle chucked him a scowl, crabby from withdrawal, "Wha?", he turned his balding head out the window, "Whoowee it's that little jailbait peach ya ain't stopped thinkin' 'bout, baby brother".

"Shuddup", he looked away from his brother, embarrassed but half worried he was going to wolf-whistle at her, get her attention and say something crass, scared he would just be Merle in general. His brother carried on.

"Is'a pretty late, maybe we should offer tha sweet little thang a ride", he scraped a hand over his greying stubble, his eyes never leaving Daryl's face, "Who knows wha dirty, red-necks are waitin' out here for a innocent baby like that, besides she mighta give a reward for bein' such stand-up citizens". Daryl's hand slammed forward on the dashboard. _Enough. _

"Don' be a dick, Merle".

Merle held his hands up in defense, "Little ol' Merle's not bein' a dick, brotha, but it seems like you jus' wanna get yours wet". His brother liked that girl far too much and by the way he flinched at the mention of some good-fashioned dick-wettin' proved it. _Pussy. _It had been funny the first few times he had lit up all red like a Christmas tree when she waved at him across the street but maybe little Darylina just needed a reminder about what was at stake here. Merle whistled low but all joking had left his voice, "We gotta good thing goin' here so you jus' remember who that is. You go fuckin' with her, fine, not ma business but if you get us caught up with that bitch's daddy then I'll kick ya teeth in".

Daryl didn't like that. Didn't like the word bitch being used even as the same sentence as her for whatever reason. She was the furthest away from a bitch than anything that he could imagine, but he didn't like her daddy more. Sheriff Blake was one of the biggest cocksuckers to ever be graced on this earth. No, no, scratch that, the biggest. Some men just go into policing for the power to fuck up anyone they wanted to without any consequences and remind everyone else of just what a big boy they are now they got some shiny badge. Without a doubt Blake was one of those. Daryl had managed to steer clear for the most part, by the skin of his teeth, but Merle hadn't been so lucky. He'd been hauled in by the Sheriff a good few times, most were drug and drink related, Merle having assaulted some punk college kid but Daryl remembered those other occasions. Once there had been a mugging outside the diner on the other side of town, the nice part where you could wander out after dark. It was a little old lady, got her bag snatched and didn't see the guy but thank god for Sheriff Blake because he put his policing abilities to the test and saw Merle was in the vicinity, leaning against his bike. Had to be him, right? Had to be that no good, back water son of a bitch that had beaten on an old lady for the quarters in her purse book. The good Sheriff dragged Merle in and got him a stint in jail for 4 months, bashing out two of his front teeth for good measure too. Yeah, the motherfucker gave off the protector of the innocent vibe but Daryl was sure it was just a show; he knew if that old lady had been from the trailer park nothing would have been done. Even still, what kind of holier than thou pig lets a drug operation run round the back of a church, right under his nose?

Daryl elbowed his brother hard in the ribs before pulling over next to maple girl, trying hard not to glare at her. What if she got kidnapped and he saw her face in the paper tomorrow morning? Was the right thing to do, that's what he told himself. He rolled down his window, ignoring his brother's comparison of him to the female anatomy and growled, "T'fuck you doing out here, girl?".

She was like a deer stuck with one of his arrows, those green eyes wide with fear and her hands clutched together as if she had just been praying to God to not let her be murdered in this back alley. That was probably right. She looked so small out here in the dimming light. She looked past him through the truck to where Merle was leering at her, her eyes narrowing slightly, "Got a puncture a little ways up the road, thought I'd walk, is a nice evenin'". Her voice was polite as usual but clipped and Daryl could tell she didn't appreciate the way he swore at her.

"Is a nice evenin' to get eaten out 'ere, baby girl", Merle leaned forward, his leer growing, "Strange thangs wander those here woods a' night".

If a redneck such as Merle was nearly leaning out the window, eye-fucking him like he was to Gracey he would've turned away right then and there, probably punched him straight in that dirty mouth too. Instead, she raised an eyebrow and countered smartly, "And even stranger people on the roads, apparently".

Daryl couldn't help but smirk at that, especially at Merle's grumpy look and whisper of "Fuckin' spitfire". He jerked his head towards the side of the truck, "Ignore Merle, he's always a' asshole". He stopped for a second before adding on, "Get in".

She looked like she might say no. That pink, bottom lip disappeared under her teeth for a second.

"I appreciate it", she nodded at him finally, making her way round the cab of the truck and sliding in next to Merle, who looked far too happy to be having a girl such as her so close to him. _Don' get used ta it. _It didn't surprise him that he didn't feel okay with that, Daryl got all kinds of skittish when Merle was near any female that had a fine head of hair on her head and two tits on her chest. He was a horn dog, his brother – he'd slip into anything that was wet and warm.

Daryl put his truck into reverse, sliding towards the side of the dirt road slightly before swinging it round and travelling back down the way he had just come, taking her directions at the slight fork in the road. He ignored them for the most part, giving his brother a quick kick when his comments got too out of hand, his eyes firmly fixed on the road ahead. He pulled over next to the black Subaru that was parked awkwardly at the side of the road, catching snippets of his two passenger's conversation.

"So you an' yer daddy always at church on'a Friday?", was his older brother's question, one that was perfectly normal but that quite frankly sent the hairs on Daryl's arms pin straight. Merle didn't do polite, he didn't ask questions unless there was something in it for him.

"And some Wednesdays, bible study an' all that", was her clipped reply, her tone always polite yet detached.

"Look at tha car, be back for ya in 10", he grunted towards Merle, his elbow leaning out the window as he held a cigarette. And to his surprise, the older Dixon didn't grouse, despite the overwhelming craving that must have been scratching away inside of him. No sir, instead Merle nodded down at the girl, motioning for her to move that pretty little backside so he could slip out. Daryl watched her as she did, dropping to the ground briefly as she waited for Merle to follow; his brother scooted towards the open truck door before looking back at him, a sharp smirk reaching up to those dull eyes, "This might jus' all work out afta all, brother". He got out then, leaving Daryl wondering just what scent Merle had caught; it was his brother's gift to sense blood in the water, anything he could use to benefit himself and only himself. If the gleeful look in his eye was to mean anything, Daryl could only assume he had found it.

Gracey slipped back in then, sitting in the seat furthest away from him, this freckled hands clasped in her lap as he pulled off. She was looking out of the window, out towards the darkening dusk so Daryl took the opportunity to look at her properly. She was soft wrapped up in a long light pink dress, cardigan around her shoulders and a silver crucifix resting on the peaking skin of her chest, those usual copper curls tied up atop her head. He glanced between the road and that cross around her neck, remembering just how different she had looked the first proper time they had met and he wandered if she wore that even then. _Looks better this way._

"Look, you don't have to do nothing", her voice broke him out of his thoughts, her eyes travelling towards him slowly while pulling the sleeve of her cardigan further down her arm, "Don't want to be any trouble, can just drop me at the church and I'll sort the car myself. It ain't a far walk".

He could do that. Could just chuck her out, pick up Merle and be done with it, would save him a hell of a lot of hassle too. Could. It seemed like his mouth had a master of its own since he chose to ignore her comment and it opened to ask instead, "You a bit young ta be out on yer own?".

It was a statement that came out as a question, he was fishing he knew and he didn't realize he was so tense until her green eyes fell on his finally, slight surprise in them. He didn't know what he was going to get from a question like that but he didn't really understand what people got from conversing in general; weren't nothing you couldn't understand through just looking.

Her bottom lip dropped slightly, only to be caught up again by her teeth and she turned slightly in the cab to face him. He could almost hear her thinking.

"I'm not some useless baby who can't take care of herself ya know", she finally replied, her tone was strong, daring almost and she reminded him for a second of the version of her from before, dressed in black with a hand on her hip.

He didn't look her, just grunted mockingly whilst watching the road. She couldn't fend off a raccoon, let alone a man and he very much doubted she could even fight her way out of a paper bag.

"I'm 18", it came out slow, almost as if she had considered not telling him the truth but one quick glance at her told him she weren't lying. That blush on her cheeks couldn't lie. He felt his back relax and his grip on the steering wheel seemed lighter, his fingers aching slightly. So he'd taken the hit and assessed the damage, which, with all things considered, wasn't that bad. It was slightly closer to okay to admit she was pretty in his mind now. _At least she's legal._

"Finished school last summer, so yeah", she continued, eyes dropping to the truck floor, "I'm old enough to be out here".

She weren't no high schooler neither, another soothing hand to his conscience. He grunted out a "Still young" before risking another glance at her. She had moved closer, a slight smile on her face.

"What about you?", Gracey asked, a hand reaching up to tuck away a curl that had sprung free from her top knot.

Did he want to go there? Absolutely not. Did he immediately regret bring up the topic of age and wished he stayed silent as usual? Absolutely yes. But yet again the answer had slipped out of his trap before he had the chance to reach up and keep it closed, "Twennie seven".

"Uh-huh", was the reply. Daryl watched her digest the information, expecting some kind of fear when it dawned on her that she was in a truck with an older man she hardly knew, travelling down a quiet road as the night slowly crept on in. The numbers had left a bitter taste in his mouth. He was pushing 9 years older than her and the thought made him screw up his face.

"Ya don't like me much, do ya?", she asked him, her lips pursed as she stared him down. She probably thought the look on his face was for her.

He didn't like her, not really. He barely knew her and she annoyed the shit out of him, with all her polite conversation and easy smiles, long skirts and simple braids. He wandered what she would do if he just put his middle finger up at her during one of the times she told him how nice it was to see him. But he never did it. And that was enough to suggest to him that he didn't not like her either.

He shook his head and grunted. She just looked out of the window again, her body turned back to the front and hands clasped back into her lap. He pulled into the nice side of town, riding past the supermarket and home store before turning left just after the church. He knew where the sheriff lived, so he knew just where to drop her. His truck came to a stop just two houses away from hers and he killed the engine.

They had travelled in an oppressive silence, awkward as you like, and it didn't take Gracey but two minutes to get her shit together and open the truck door, turning to release her seatbelt. His hand snapped out then, grabbing her wrist lightly and resting there for a moment before snatching it back just as quick. He didn't touch people. He didn't look to be touched. So he didn't know what possessed him to do what he had, he hadn't understood the lick of alarm that he'd felt when he heard the door open and it made even less sense to him when he actually wanted to reassure her that he didn't dislike her.

"Woulda jus' left ya there", Daryl grumbled in way of explanation, not daring to look up at her, both hands clenching the steering wheel tightly where he could keep an eye on them. He wasn't looking her but he could feel her eyes on him, her body slightly turning again to face him.

"Okay". She seemed to get it, even though he could have been talking about anything, but it ended the awkwardness and that weird moment had passed. For that he could only be grateful.

"Will bring tha car to Jims, fix it up". He was more comfortable on this topic, he knew loads about it and was pretty sure that she didn't so wouldn't ask too much bout it. Cars were easier to understand than women; they didn't get on his ass asking stupid questions and sure as hell didn't confuse him with the emotional shit. He thought he was sinking back into his comfort zone until she placed a hand on his arm and thanked him kindly.

/|||\\\\\\\

The two men sat in the office, one held a cigarette while the other finished off some papers. The clock read 8 o'clock, which meant the rest of the building should be cleared out, leaving just the two of them to clock out and lock up when they were ready to go.

"Think we're gon' have to watch the girls more careful?", the burlier of the two asked quietly, raising a cigarette to his mouth.

"Should've been doing it already. They're gonna end up swept up in all this otherwise", was the answer from other man. He was the superior here, you could tell, and he wiped his forehead when he placed the hat he had been wearing down next to him, the police logo on it glinting under the office light. "They're good girls though, shouldn't be no trouble".

The burly man stirred and scratched his chin, he felt apprehension for a second and tilted his head back to get a clearer look of the hallway, making sure it was empty. "I done saw her at The Rattlesnake about a week back, with the Halchuck kid". He ran a large hand through his dark hair.

"You seen her there since?", his superior didn't even look up from his paper work.

Mr. Burly shook his head before muttering a "Naw".

"Kids go down there on a Friday, keep an eye out". _Go babysit every Friday, _is what that translated to him. Not that he minded, he could have a few beers and was normally there anyhow. Was the only decent place to go on a weekend in this town.

But something bugged him.

"What about Dixon?", he asked.

The man placed the hat back on his head and collected his paperwork together, he was tired you could tell and he scrubbed a hand over his face before answering, "Let me worry about that, Shane". He needed to get home to the wife.

Shane stood up and grabbed his keys before walking over to his friend's desk, "You won't have to if Blake finds out 'bout it". All he heard was a sigh in return.

"Is it really a bad thing, Rick? Worst he'll do is run that trash outta town".

"If ya really believe that, then I question whether you're as clued up as ya claim", Deputy Rick Grimes replied brusquely. It was approaching quarter past eight and Lori would kill him if he was late for dinner again.

"Is gettin' late", he carried on, directing his friend to the door as he shut off the lights in the office. "Lori'll shoot me if I don't make it home 'fore nine". He locked the door behind them as they vacated.

Shane stood still behind him, not saying a word until he turned back round again. "Ya sure about all this, Rick?".

His friend had his back he knew and it wasn't an unreasonable question, he had asked himself that very same thing many times before now. Probably would many times in the future too. But the answer was always the same.

"Dead sure".

**A long one I know. I just couldn't drop it. Something's going on for sure, I think we can all agree. **

**All disclaimers apply and the song for this episode is White Mustang - Lana Del Rey (one of my favs).**

**Review x **


	4. Mind Your Own Biscuits

**Blah. blah. disclaimers. blah.**

Beth Greene was cute. That was definitely the first adjective that sprung to mind when anyone thought of the young farm girl, all sweet and blonde hair. She was the type of straight-laced, angel-faced girl that ate pink things smothered in despicable amounts of glitter and was a leading singer in the church choir. She was what your mother wanted you to bring home for Sunday supper and what your father wanted raising his grandbabies. She bought cookies from girl scouts, volunteered her Friday evenings to the elderly and never ever smoked a day in her life. Beth Greene was a good girl. Only a few years younger than Mary-Grace, but there was no denying that she was sheltered. And cute.

But she still knew things though, she thought. She still knew that the world wasn't all rainbow ponies like her father wanted her to believe and that the Greene Ranch was, in fact, not the site of the Garden of Eden itself. To Herschel Green, there was no problem on God's green earth that a little evening church service couldn't remedy and a good helping of Christian love thy neighbor was the only cure anybody needed. Anybody, that is, except a Korean fella named Glenn but that was a whole other can of worms. Beth Greene was cute as a button, but she didn't know a whole lot about life.

A part of her wished she did. While she was proud to be her family's little cherub child that got straight As and the person everyone smiled at whilst walking down the street, she often thought of what it would be like to be someone else. Namely her 22-year old estranged sister that she wasn't allowed to mention in front of anyone in church or her parents. Beth thought maybe she'd like to stay out after 10 o'clock, when according to her mother 'good girls' were tucked up in bed, maybe she'd like to go out on a first date with a boy that didn't have to ask her daddy first. She knew these things didn't make you bad like the adults around here would have her believe, after all she'd let her boyfriend, Jimmy, cop a feel in her barn once or twice and she hadn't been struck down by the wrath of God yet for her indecency. It was for that reason that when she sensed something was going on with Mary-Grace Blake, she didn't tell a soul.

They were friends; went to the same church, their fathers were hunting buddies so she was often at the Greene's dinner table and Beth was one of the only girls around her age that Sheriff Blake let his daughter socialize with. So you could say that Beth Greene knew Gracey Blake fairly well. She knew that the redhead had never had a boyfriend, had never even returned one of the approving glances she got from the boys at school and was always polite as a church wife. It was all of a sudden when Gracey started being real slow with her 'Yes ma'am's' during Sunday service and her face was more or less glued to her phone. She'd check it nonstop and in the churchyard she would stand by the maples after service was completed and glance about, like she was waiting for something. Sure, people weren't wrong when they thought Beth Greene was sheltered enough to not know a whole lot. But she knew that absent look of the face when someone had their head in the clouds instead of in a conversation, she knew that excited anticipation in staring at a mobile's lit screen and she certainly knew the satisfaction that sunk in behind the eyes when you caught sight of just what you wanted. Gracey had a crush and Beth could have sensed it a mile away.

That was why she followed her friend that Friday night. Beth had sold her own story of staying over at a friend's round about the same time Gracey told her father that she was feeling sick so was hitting the hay early. Just as Beth was fixing to throw a stone at the window she was sure her friend was sleeping behind, did she hear a rustling at the end of the back yard and if she hadn't have seen it with her own two eyes she would've sworn it weren't true. Disappearing over the chain link fence was a flash of dark copper hair and a pair of black sandaled feet.

Yes, Beth Greene was cute and she didn't know much about a lot. But she sure as shit was going to find out.

~~~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~~~

His fingertips lightly brushed hers as he pulled the beer bottle away from her. He was so close she could feel the heat radiating off of him, so close she was sure he could see how red he was making her. How loud her heart was beating. Though it probably wasn't by choice; it was Friday so that meant that The Rattlesnake was loud, sweaty and about three times full of drunken, misbehaving fools than usual. Noah was off with some honey-haired peach in one corner or another and Mae was out in Atlanta, leaving Gracey pressed up against the bar, basically in the lap of a certain biker.

She was happy, and surprised, he had come, even though he said he would. Every time she saw him she felt that way and even though she couldn't claim to any psychic abilities, she was sure she always would.

"Car been givin' yer any trouble?", he grunted out roughly without looking at her, taking a swig of his beer as he did so. The dark hair on his forehead was longer, just shy of falling into those baby blues, and the scruff on his chin looked thicker too.

"Nope", she flashed a sweet smile, leaning forward real close to avoid the spilt drink of the inebriated college chick next to her. "You fixed it up good".

Daryl grunted deeply, once more tipping the bottle towards his lips. "Fuckin' battery was fried, girl". But still he kept his eyes on the bar top in front of him.

"You're surprised I even made it down my driveway, I know. You keep telling me". He had. In fact, every time Gracey had seen him since he had checked out her car, that little tidbit of mechanical fact had not failed to slip out of his mouth and her eyes, each time, had also not failed to roll. True to form, those big greens didn't disappoint, although she couldn't help but follow it up with a toothy grin when Daryl informed her dryly that if she rolled them too hard, they would stick back there.

Their relationship was rocky, odd to say the least. Somehow, for whatever reason, it went from him dropping off her keys for the car he had fixed for her free of charge to meeting him at the same spot at the bar every Friday night. It wasn't like he asked her, no not at all. If anything she was trying to get some details on his schedule, sniffing around to see if he wasn't about to hop on that bike of his and drive off into the sunset anytime soon and his lips had lifted in the slightest way when he mentioned that he'd probably see her at Jake's on Friday with her little boyfriend. She hadn't bothered hiding her smile at that one. Sometimes he sat at the back, sometimes he stood by the jukebox, sometimes he sat in stony silence whilst angrily nursing a beer and not turning to look at her even once, sometimes he just sat and nodded as she rambled on. But she liked the times like these, when he'd take a seat at the bar and look at her, asking her a question here and there, albeit rarely. She gleaned enough from him in these few interactions to know he was a quiet man, a surprisingly thoughtful man and definitely, definitely a dangerous man. She also knew she had barely scratched the surface. But if she knew something for a fact, it was that God had never steered her wrong before, so every time she watched Daryl follow a stumbling Merle out of the Rattlesnake back door with more than suspicious company, she reminded herself of that fact.

She stole another swig of his beer, purposely leaning her fingers against his as she pulled the bottle from his hand. "Thas my beer, girl", was his response. His eyes leveling on her hard but not once reaching to take it beer.

Gracey smiled cheekily down at him. Him in his leather vest and plaid shirt with the sleeves ripped off, with his hair a little long and his scruff in need of a shave. He had a cut above his eyebrow and his hands looked a little bruised. "Where's Merle?", she asked.

Daryl frowned immediately, looking away to signal the barman for another drink, "S'nowhere, don' worry". She knew what that meant. Merle had got in trouble again. She wondered who he'd had to hit to protect his brother, if they had swollen eyes or their nose bashed in. She wondered if Merle was conked out on a couch somewhere high out of his mind or shivering down in a cell in county. Those were the only two options she could have guessed really, what with the rumors flying around town about the older Dixon and how he liked to spend his days. She didn't want to judge but that man certainly had a routine.

"Where's ya boyfriend?".

"Talkin' to some lady".

"Fuck no he ain't". He ignored the glare she threw at him at the curse word that he casually slipped in.

"Ain't that what you're doing now?", she replied cheekily, succeeding in making him blush and leaning close to him to gloat with her victory.

Daryl's mouth of course clamped shut immediately. A light warmth spreading across his cheeks at the thought that that was exactly what he was doing and he supposed, begrudgingly, that he was. He was talking to a lady for sure, a beautiful one too but it weren't like _that. _He didn't know what it was like exactly but the last time he'd seen the Halchuck kid he had his tongue down some candy ass's throat and he weren't trying to be doing that with Gracey. He liked having his balls attached to his body and didn't think life in jail would suit him very well. Who would look after his bike? But nah, she wasn't wrong per say.

"Don' see no lady", he grumbled out finally, painfully aware of the material of her denim skirt rubbing against his forearm from her seat on top of the bar and how the creamy skin reaching out from under it was getting closer and closer to his own as more and more people filled in.

Gracey looked like she was about to reply, a red eyebrow lifted in good humor with what he had no doubt was a snarky remark, letting him know that he wouldn't know what a lady looked like even if one walked up and bonked him on the nose. That is certainly what it looked like anyway, but he didn't get to find out. All too soon her cheeky smirk was slipping down her chin, right off her face as her eyes glazed over, staring intensely at something behind him. She'd gone pale, paler than what he thought a natural redhead in Georgia ever could and before he knew it she had slipped off the bar, letting him know hurriedly that she'd be back in a few minutes, adjusting her skirt as low as she could as she went. Daryl turned in his seat, swiveling around just fast enough to watch her take the hand of what looked like a small, blonde child before dragging her off through the crowd. Smelt like trouble to him.

/|||||||\\\\\\\\\\\\\

She thought she'd died when she saw Beth Greene standing in the middle of the Rattlesnake's dance floor. A whirl of gyrating, scantily clad bodies around the sweet little cardigan wearing blonde, who was clutching it towards her like it could ward off the devil and staring around with wide, horrified eyes. Gracey didn't ask herself what Beth was doing here amongst all this. She didn't ask how she had escaped her father's watchful glance long enough to even find the bar. No, all Gracey could think about was that surely her own knew – surely her own father was aware of her comings and goings and she should die right now instead of going home. If he didn't know at this moment, he would in a few hours; she loved Beth, she was sweet and adorable but she couldn't keep her mouth shut for toffee.

She had run away from Daryl as fast as she could, her hand gripping the frazzled blonde's forearm as she whizzed past, pushing them towards the bar backdoor, frantically looking for her father in the process.

Beth hadn't fought against her, hadn't said a word – instead she just stared at Gracey incredulously, her blue eyes trailing down her form with a brittle quality. It didn't look good, she knew it didn't. She had ditched her usual dungarees and long skirts for a denim pinafore dress and short-sleeved black top, relatively laid backed in terms of others but with what she was sure was an ungodly amount of leg showing. She tried to pull it down a few more inches but that skirt wasn't going anywhere.

"Beth", she asked softly, taking a step towards her. "What are you doing here? Is everything okay?".

Beth remained watching her, lifting a slow hand to brush away her hair from her face. She looked cautious, confused maybe. Almost as if she didn't recognize Gracey as she stood before her and honestly, it was making the older girl's heart pick up. Why in the heavens wasn't she talking?

"Beth, are you-".

"Who is that man?".

That shut Gracey up real quick. That man. Her mouth hung open slightly and she blinked rapidly as she tried to process what exactly was going on here, what route was the most suitable to take. An answer was imminent, that was certain by the way Beth was looking at her like some biology project that had grown two heads. Unlikely to be easily swayed away from the conversation with a not so subtle topic change. She could deny it, be dumb, act as though she had not a clue what she was talking about. _ What man? That man? Oh, _that_ man. Yes, I see. Nope, sorry, never seen him in my life. _She could play it off maybe, something insignificant that wouldn't arouse any more suspicion that would end her in a deeper hole. _He was just getting me a drink, no big deal. He does this for everyone._ Yeah, she had options. Viable options, in fact.

Despite this, all she could manage was a weak, "Man?" before mentally noting that she had to work on her deception abilities and saying a quick apology to the Lord.

It clearly wasn't the response that was expected or appreciated.

"Man? Yes_, _a _man, _Gracey! That man from about 5 seconds ago", the young girl had apparently found her voice. Beth took a step towards her, her hands releasing the cardigan that was balled up within them before pointing towards the bar door accusingly.

"I'm not sure-"

"I just saw you with him, Gracey! Is this where you've been sneakin' off to? _Who _you've been goin' to see? Gracey! Your daddy would be so mad". Gracey wanted to shrink away from her berating, wanted to hide from the disappointed blue of her eyes, the eyes that held an immature fear, a child's fear – that her daddy would catch her. She couldn't move, all she could do was worry her lip between her teeth as Beth continued to inform her of the dangers of alcohol and how lying to her very own daddy took her further away from God.

"You can't tell, Beth. You can't", she suddenly interrupted, her tone hard yet pleading, pleading her friend not to effectively ruin her life by snitching. She knew how mad her father would be, knew what it would mean returning home after something like this – it would mean uncountable days in her daddy's reflection room. Locked in, night and day until he and God were both sure she was sorry.

"You're asking me to lie too?", Beth's voice rose in heartbroken surprise, finding the notion so incredibly ludicrous that she didn't know why it had even been thrown out into the conversation. You didn't lie to family, no sir, and if they didn't want you somewhere, Beth was sure it was all for a good reason.

"Not lie, just don't mention it! Nobody's going to ask, no one knows you're even here! Please, Bethy", Gracey implored, taking her childhood friend's hand in hers. She squeezed lightly and her eyes watered. "I'm 18, Bethy, please understand. I just wanted to see what it was like and Daryl wasn't doing any harm, promise".

The younger stared at her for a long time, her blue eyes softening as more time went on and her blonde eyebrows slowly lifting. Her hand clutching her friends as she returned the previous squeezes. She shook her head slightly before asking, "You're not here alone are you?".

Gracey shook her head in response, "Naw, Noah is in there somewhere". At the sight of the considering bob of Beth's head, she stepped closer again, "So you're not going to tell?".

"No".

"You got to promise me, Bethy".

Quiet again. And she was back to wrapping that cardigan tightly around herself as she considered her next words. Gracey could see the wheels turning, the thoughts racing behind her eyes as she stood in front of her in silence. "I get it. You, coming here, I do. So okay, I promise I won't tell my daddy or yours. But I don't think you should see that man, Gracey. He looks like trouble".

Gracey didn't push her luck. Didn't want Beth to reverse her offer by informing her that she didn't know Daryl at all, that while his rough exterior was indeed rough and most likely not a front, he was a perfectly lovely human being that she just simply didn't have luxury of acquainting yet. It was unnecessary, didn't need validation. She was only 16, impressionable and deeply rooted into a prejudiced family that frowned upon anybody that wasn't freshly shaven and imbibed even slightly in alcohol. Gracey would take what she could get and decided defending Daryl was a fight for another day. Instead she pulled the small blonde into a hug in thanks before suggesting they both head home.

She was sure Beth would have smiled and agreed, thinking it was an absolutely acceptable idea and they would have gone on their merry way, hopping in Beth's little pick up. She was sure she would have been in by 1 am sharp, tucked up all warm in bed after shimmying back over the yard fence if it wasn't for the strange interaction going on behind them. The conversation between a slurring tattooed man and a very pissed off looking Daryl Dixon drifted over to where she and Beth stood and she knew instantly that home wasn't on the agenda just yet.

He must have followed her out when she left so quickly, she thought. Or maybe he was also looking to quickly split himself. Although she had no idea who the man he was talking was, nor the 4 others that were lurking in the background, clearly listening in. It didn't look good for Daryl and it sure as hell didn't sound any better either.

"Your brother better be gettin' me that dolla' for that crank soon, brother. He's a week late".

"Ain't my debt. Talk to Merle".

"See, I would but he been hidin' out in that fuckin' pisshole motel like some little bitch".

Another man chipped in suddenly, all sweat and shitty tattoos. "C'mon brother, jus' tryna get this all straightened out".

But it didn't soothe Daryl none. He chucked his cigarette butt down at their feet. "Ain't yer brother".

The air was bristling, and Gracey didn't have to be clairvoyant to know that a fight was coming on. She'd witnessed enough at school to know that there was no diffusing pent up boys such as these; they will do as they do and all she could do was sneak away before it got out of control. Plus, the last thing she needed was Beth Greene witnessing a bar brawl between the man she had just warned her away from and some thugs. Thereby proving her whole point right in the first place. Nope. She had no business getting involved and dragged Beth past them quietly, heading towards the door. She could feel Daryl's eyes following her as she went, but she didn't think she was drawing too much attention to them. In fact, she thought they were in the clear, with Beth already shoved through the door when she heard the fat, sweaty man call out:

"Ain't that ya little hussy from the bar?"

"Looks like you got two little bitches in your life, Dixon".

"The fuck you say 'bout her?"

"Nothin' brother, nothin'. Just hit me up when you're done, wanna bite outta that peach".

It was all said and done in a matter of seconds. Daryl hadn't wasted any time trying to formulate some witty comeback to defend her honor. Naw, he used his fists for that. He was on top of Mr. Fat and Sweaty without a second thought and was pounding him to hell by the sounds he was making. It wouldn't have been a fair fight, not at all; the other men creeping about were quickly making their way towards the two squabbling men and Gracey was fairly sure who would have been worse off in this equation if they decided to jump in for their buddy. Someone must have been smiling down on Mr. Dixon though, she decided as she pressed herself against a wall to narrowly avoid the swaying bodies of drunken patrons escaping out of the side door. Apparently, simultaneous to the one she was currently watching, a fight had erupted inside the Rattlesnake, something about two college boys, toilet paper and a pool table, and it was now breaking out into the parking lot, sending people left and right.

Gracey covered her ears in fright of the violent shouting and crashing pouring from the open door and after successfully catching sight of a hysterical Beth safely in the arms of Noah, she clenched her eyes shut. As much as it annoyed her to admit, this is what the pastor had warned about when it came to alcohol; it was what she saw lurking behind her father's eyes when he'd had one beer too many, what she smelt on the breath of Merle Dixon when he was in one of his particularly nasty moods. She could do the fearless drinking and dancing, having a care free jolly up but not this. Could not stomach this thoughtless and easy aggression.

She didn't know how long she was there, frozen in fear, squatting next to the door in the rowdy parking lot of The Rattlesnake, just listening to her heartbeat. Trying to get it to slow. She thought about running away, never stepping foot here again, that her daddy was right and that alcohol really did put the devil in people. She could have internally panicked for a lifetime it would seem, but all theworrying was knocked straight out of her when she felt a sudden firm grip on one of her forearms and all she could do was pray that it wasn't Mr. Fat and Sweaty.

It wasn't, thank God Almighty. And when she opened her eyes to meet those familiar baby blues she let out a shuddering breath. Daryl stood in front of her, ruffled but relatively unscathed, a scratch to a cheek but nothing irreconcilable and Gracey was struck by how this soothed her in such a way. They were standing, staring at each other, saying nothing – both scouring the other for any damage, her hand bracing herself against the wall and his curling softly around her forearm.

"Ya hurt?", he asked gruffly, close enough that his warm breath washed over her face.

She shook her head no but enquired, "You?". Daryl merely scoffed, as if the idea of him being hurt was comical, instead reaching forward to brush the red hair that had escaped from her ponytail. He still hadn't let go of her arm, standing there so close that she didn't think she could move without her body touching him in some way and the thought lit her afire. _He won't kiss me though. I'm just some baby girl. _

In reality, the moment seemed perfect for it. A first kiss. But they weren't living in some damned fairy tale where perfect moments paned out to perfect endings. And all thoughts of Gracey's first kiss ever went straight out of the window at the sound of sirens. _Police _sirens.

/|||||\\\\\\\\\\\

Her heartbeat was pounding like a jackhammer, he could practically hear it. More or less see her mind racing behind her panicking eyes. He could hear them too, the sirens. He weren't stupid enough to think the Sheriff wouldn't be called out for a fight as big a scale as this. Jesus, he was pretty sure no one had got a whiff of his scuffle with Merle's dealers it had been so big and he was damned grateful for it too. Had saved him from one hell of a beating from 6 men. Truthfully, he could already make out the self-important tone of Philip Blake's voice that just made you want to take a swipe at him, could see his police cruiser parked outside.

Yep, he was more than sure Mary-Grace was fearfully anticipating the arrival of dear old daddy and he wasn't sure if she was more scared of the fact the Blake would find her _here _or here with _him. _The latter he was sure, he'd probably be less adverse to his teenage daughter being drunk at a bar than being drunk at a bar and pressed up against a middle aged hick such as himself. It was at times like this that he noticed just how young she was. The way fear made her eyes go wide and glassy, the way she ran that pouty lower lip under her teeth in worry. She may be an adult but damn she was undeniably a _young _adult and that knowledge just made the scenario even worse. He stepped back from her noticeably and took out another cigarette.

Gracey just looked at him like he was insane. Looking towards the sound of the sirens jerkily, "Ain't no time to smoke, Daryl! We got to get out of here". That irked him even more.

"Don't take orders from some drunk high schooler". It was unnecessary of him and the way her eyebrows creased and her lips set in a pout was enough to tell him how inaccurate the statement was. She wasn't in high school, this had already been clarified but seemed to be where he retreated whenever she pissed him off, and she'd barely had one whole drink tonight, been stealing his beer all night long instead of getting her damn own.

"Seriously? My daddy'll kill you if he catches you here, Daryl. He'd have a cow for real". She stepped forward, once more against him, her small stature barely making it past his shoulder. The statement had made him stop cold, as did the way she said his name. With such intensity, with such god damn genuine worry that he couldn't help but look at her; nobody had been worried for him since his mama had passed and even his own brother was to consumed by his own drug fueled agenda to worry about his younger counterpart. He didn't run with the right crowd and drove a motorbike in a Christian suburb so that didn't help none either. Nah, worry was not the first emotion to spring to the public mind when they saw him.

And the fact that this worry was directed at him rather than herself made him pause. He knew Blake was a mean son of a bitch in uniform and he bet that carried on outside of it too – Gracey was in some real dangerous territory here, about to potentially get found out by a hard ass of a father who happened to be a Jesus-freak to boot and she was worried about him. The fuck was up with this chick? It made him think. In fact it made him think so much that all he could manage in reply was, "A cow?".

"And the whole barn" and she timidly put her hand into his.

He didn't do a lot more thinking after that. He knew he could throw her to the wolves, leave her here without a ride and to the mercy of her father but he didn't want to do that. Not at all. Instead he suddenly had her by the wrist, pulling her along behind him towards his bike, luckily parked behind some flash pick up and telling her to hold on as he held a helmet out to her.

The sheriff definitely would have heard the roar of his Triumph as he pulled out of the lot. Definitely would have seen the cloud of dust it choked up as he sped down the road, maybe have even got a glimpse of his license plate as he went. But all he could think to himself was that he was speeding on down a road with the Sheriff's daughter, barely containing her excitement as she clung to him. He couldn't help but smirk.

It was a shame. A damn shame about that jacket though. The very same one he wore everyday, whatever the weather. The same cracked leather he'd worn for years, still hanging on the back of the chair at the bar.

**So its been awhile. I just recently moved abroad so things have been hectic. Got a nice long chapter here for you as an apology! I have two songs for this chapter: for Beth's POV Kacey Musgraves - Biscuits and for the rest of the chapter Gold Dust Woman by Fleetwood Mac (unarguably one of the best bands in the world). As always, like and review! Let me know what you want and if you have any questions.**


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